


coiled 'round my heart

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunk Sex, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, References to Addiction, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: They had an understanding that some things were better leftunsaid,which was probably how it happened.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Raleigh Samson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	coiled 'round my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluestra195](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestra195/gifts).



Cullen screwed up his face as he swallowed the liquor, while Samson savoured the prickling heat at the back of his throat. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was not in the _Herald's Rest,_ but back in the _Hanged Man_ with a portion of their fish and egg pie on the way. But Samson's eyes were always wide open nowadays, no matter how tired he got.

He placed a hand over Cullen's trembling fingers, intended as a show of sympathy or solidarity. Perhaps both. He was intimately familiar with the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal, and going through them alone was hell - not that Cullen _was_ alone, but there were few enough ex-templars in Skyhold that one could still get to feeling that way. Yet here he was, living proof that it did get better once you were over the hump. At least, it did if you had as skilled an arcanist as Dagna on your side.

With the assistance of a Grey Warden healer, she'd figured out a way to extract red lyrium from its host, though only if the corruption hadn't spread too far. She was a clever lass, but she couldn't work miracles. In the end, not even Corypheus was capable of that. It had been nothing more than Samson's unusual tolerance for lyrium that had spared him. Others had not been so lucky.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Samson looked up from his drink, realising he'd been staring into the glass for too long. Cullen's hazel eyes were bright with anticipation, the kind of nervous excitement Samson had come to expect from him since the very first time they'd met.

"Just thinking about...I don't suppose you ever tried the Starkhaven pie at the _Hanged Man?"_ Cullen's features twisted in disgust, though Samson couldn't have said whether it was in response to the pie or the idea that he'd have been caught dead in a Lowtown pub. Samson shrugged. "Well, your loss."

"I, um...I think about Kirkwall, too, sometimes. I know it's not the same, I didn't grow up in the Free Marches..." Cullen's hands were shaking again, and Samson instinctively stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. He'd been in the city when the Chantry blew up, and when the mage-templar conflict had broken out. He'd heard about what happened with Orsino, and he'd _seen_ Meredith, or what remained of her, petrified in red lyrium. If it hadn't been for Dagna, he'd probably be spending his days as a crimson gargoyle, too. Some people might have preferred that to the inconvenience of him being live and kicking around Skyhold, but Samson had never really given a damn what people thought of him, and especially not after Meredith had thrown him out on his arse with a week's worth of dust.

"You spent ten years there, give or take. It was your home, for better or worse." Probably worse, though he'd heard about what went down at Kinloch Hold before Cullen was shipped over to the Gallows. He supposed all Circles had their problems. Cullen just nodded, and finished his drink, fingers curling around Samson's.

He didn't particularly like talking about the Gallows when he was sober, and he _never_ spoke about his time in the Fereldan Circle (and _especially_ not about Warden-Commander Surana). Samson was there when Cullen needed a sparring partner, or a drink, or just some company while he rode out the worst of the lyrium withdrawals, but he knew better than to pry. It was an unspoken agreement that went both ways - Cullen never asked him about Maddox either, though he'd brought him up himself occasionally.

They had an understanding that some things were better left _unsaid,_ which was probably how it happened.

He'd known it was a bad idea, that they'd both had too much to drink. He'd known as soon as Cullen had led him up to that Maker-forsaken loft above his office and the ladder had seemed too wobbly. They'd both known, and it hadn't stopped either of them. Still, Samson had certainly had _worse_ ideas and those hadn't involved getting fucked under the stars by a gorgeous blonde.

He tangled his fingers in those golden curls, struggling to keep his breathing slow and steady as the tip of Cullen's prick pressed up against his ass, slick with lube so cold it made him swear under his breath.

"Was that too fast?" Cullen asked, drawing back for a moment before Samson's long legs wrapped around him to pull him right back.

"No, just cold." Granted, the hole in the ceiling wasn't exactly helping them in their quest to not freeze their balls off. Honestly, he wondered how the hell Cullen managed to _sleep_ up here with all the wind and rain and snow that Skyhold saw. That thought was cut short as Cullen's hips jerked forward, and every nerve in Samson's body seemed to respond to the twin sensations of pleasure and pain.

"I've wanted this for a long time," Cullen panted, each ragged breath hot against Samson's neck. He gripped Cullen's hair tighter, tugging until he was close enough to pull into a bruising kiss, biting down on his lower lip when, with the next thrust, Cullen buried his cock deep inside him.

"Me, too," he said, a familiar, coppery taste filling his mouth. He brought one hand down to cup Cullen's cheek, and ran his thumb along his bloodied lip. "Sorry about that." Cullen let out a short, breathy laugh.

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"I still say _I_ look better in red."

"You look better in nothing at all." Now it was Samson's turn to laugh, though it was soon drowned by a moan. Cullen's thrusts were still too slow and too shallow, cock lazily dragging back and forth inside him, even with Samson tilting his hips to push back against his languid movements.

"So, are you _going_ to fuck me, or what?" He glanced up at the twinkling stars above, like a scene plucked straight from one of Tethras' Maker-damned romance novels, while his prick practically ached in anticipation, a bead of precome already forming at the tip.

Cullen's response was a quick, hard thrust that had Samson gasping for breath, clutching at another handful of hair, and raking his nails down Cullen's back.

"Faster," Samson choked, using his hand to guide his hips. Cullen's movements were getting sloppy, which meant he was getting close, but he wasn't the only one. Samson came first, with a shudder and a sob as Cullen clung to him, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down his neck while he fucked him through his orgasm.

"Do you want me to-"

"Yeah, no, you're good." Cullen whimpered as he came inside him, and Samson caught him when he fell forward, body suddenly limp and heavy against his, sticky with sweat and come. Samson stroked his hair, damp with sweat, curls tighter than when they'd started, and swore when the heavens opened, giving them another good drenching.

The first thing Samson was going to do when he sobered up was fix that fucking roof.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _The Canticle of Maferath._


End file.
